They Were Only Joking
by Hannah28
Summary: While dealing with a missing student, Snape contemplates the Inquisitorial Squad, Weasley Twins, and the value of mischief.
1. Missing Student

All of this really belongs to J.K. Rowling

_Dear Mr. And Mrs. Montague_

_I am writing to inform you of your son's disappearance from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  Mr. Montague was last seen in Charms two days ago.  I have no leads as to where he might be.  However, I am confident that he will be found soon.  I will send word as soon as I know more.  _

_Sincerely, _

_Prof. Severus S. Snape _

_Head of Slytherin House _

It would have to do.  I didn't have another hour to fuss over a letter and I was out of parchment.  Hopefully Montague's parents wouldn't realize I was lying, that I was simply buying time before irate parents came thumping on my door.  I was not at all confident that Montague would be found soon.  The locating spells indicated that he was still in the castle, but even Filch had been unable to find him.    

If Dumbledore had stayed he would have been able to locate the young man in seconds.  If Dumbledore had stayed he would most likely know why my Quidditch captain was missing.  But Dumbledore had not, and for the first time as Slytherin Head of House I had a missing student.    

Umbridge had been her normal self when informed; flattering, condescending, and entirely unhelpful. "Missing?" she had said, quite cheerfully, "Well, I'm sure he'll show up sooner or later."

"I'm not entirely sure he will.  I have my suspicions that students took offence at him docking points."  I did not add that if he showed up later rather than sooner, I would have to deal with a very unprepared N.E.W.T. student and both of us would have to deal with irate parents.

"Really, Professor Snape, do you think the students would attack a member of the Inquisitorial Squad?  It would be like attacking a member of the faculty."  

Bringing up my first difficult years of teaching, when many students were convinced I was a Death Eater, and several attacks had occurred, seemed unwise.  The more recent attack of three third years she probably had heard about about, but I wasn't going to remind her.    

"I'm sure, Professor Snape," she had continued, with a sweet smile, "that a wizard of your abilities should be able to find a missing student.  Just as I'm sure that any potential Defense Against the Dark Arts professor would be able to find a missing student quite quickly."

I'm glad she was sure, because I was beginning to have my doubts.  Helpful of her, really, considering that the Inquisitorial Squad had been her idea.  Let's make a squad of students with more power than the teachers, sure to be hated by the rest of the school.  Let's make them all Slytherin students, and let's not tell their Head of House until after the squad has already been formed.    

I made one more attempt.  As much as I dislike Umbridge, only she could authorize someone to professionally search for the student.  "I was hoping that, perhaps, the current Defense Against the Dark Arts might know locating spells that I might not.  If not..."

"Professor Snape, no!  I refuse to call in the Ministry.  He hasn't been missing for more than a week.  It is most likely a joke that Montague and his friends are playing.  I will not waste the Ministry's time on some juvenile prank!"   

She indicated the discussion was over and I left her office to speak to Minerva, who, while aggravating, was convinced that a missing student was no joking matter.


	2. Twin Trickery

Fine Print: All of this really belongs to J.K. Rowling.  
  
As aggravating as Minerva could be, she did try. She gathered Professor Flitwick and all three of us tried a several spells that should have been able to pinpoint Mr. Montague. Even Flitwick was perplexed, although he assured me that Montague was still alive. Still within this castle, even.  
  
"I'm sure he's here somewhere." Professor Flitwick squeaked, looking a map of the castle much like Potter's, "Why don't we take a break for some food. Here, six o'clock?"  
  
"Better make it eight o'clock, Filius, I have an appointment I can't miss after supper."  
  
Disappointed, I stalked off to the Great Hall. Some food was a very good idea. I hadn't eaten a proper meal since I realized that Montague was missing. I was almost there when I heard a distinct hick-hick. For a delightful moment I wondered if Umbridge had finally succeeded in coughing her tonsils up. Unfortunately, the coughing was coming from the hallway on my left, not down the hallway that lead to our new Headmistress's office.  
  
Pulling out my wand (fourteen years of teaching had taught me that it wasn't just the creatures in the forest that were dangerous), I walked quietly towards the crowd of snickering red and gold students gathered in the hall.  
  
"What is going on here?"  
  
I'm not sure why I asked. The situation spoke for itself. Two Gryffindor ex-beaters, wands out, and a Slytherin who looked like something Lockhart dreamed up. He had been turned a lurid shade of pink, from his hair all the way down to his shoes. He was gagging on his tongue, which had also turned a bright shade of pink and appeared to be twice its normal size.  
  
"If your're not a Weasley or a Nott, I want you out of my sight." I hissed.  
  
The crowd, which had turned deathly quiet the moment I had arrived, fled. So much for the greatly vaunted Gryffindor bravery. The Weasley Twins tried to flee as well but I effectively blocked their escape route.  
  
"Mr. Nott, are you all right?"  
  
Nott frantically nodded his head, his tongue flapping against his neck.  
  
"Then take Mr. Weasley's cloak, pull it up over your head and go to the hospital wing. I will join you there shortly."  
  
I watched as Nott made his way to the hospital wing, wondering if I should have escorted him. But even pink teenage boys have their pride. He was mobile. Better to let him get there on his own steam. Besides, it would be easier to deal the Weasley twins without an audience.  
  
"Good afternoon, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Weasley," I said smoothly, "Could I have a moment of your time?"  
  
"Well, we're actually quite busy now."  
  
"If you'd like to make an appointment with our secretary."  
  
Minerva had warned me, years ago, that I could only frighten my students so far before they started retaliating. "You seem to be under the impression that the students HAVE to do your bidding. Young man, I was teaching when you where in nappies and I'm telling you that is not the case. The students do what you ask them because they chose to, and woe betide you should you every run into a student who simply refuses to be intimidated." I had run across several such students in my years of teaching. Somehow those students always seemed to come from Minerva's house. I sometimes wondered if she gave promising troublemakers pep talks in her office.  
  
I seriously doubted if I truly had any authority over these two, or ever had. They seemed to be enjoying their trip down the merry path to expulsion. I would be happy to see them go. I felt, however, that I needed to say something. For my own sanity, if nothing else.  
  
"You two seem to under the delusion that I'm making a request. It's not! My office. Now!" I must have looked sufficiently intimidating because they followed me into my office without another word.  
  
"I'm sure you two have some glib explanation for what I saw in the hallway." I said, slamming the door behind me.  
  
"Well, we just thought that green really wasn't Nott's color", said Fred.  
  
"So we decided to smarten him up a bit." added George.  
  
Ahh, they were really just helping the poor Slytherin. How very touching.  
  
"And I'm sure you asked Mr. Nott's permission before. smartening him up?" I asked softly.  
  
"Well, you know, anything had to be an improvement at that point."  
  
"We really didn't think he'd mind."  
  
Sometimes I could almost sympathize with Filch's desire to bring back the old punishments. Concentrating hard on a vision of the Weasley Twins swinging by their ankles allowed me to ponder more appropriate punishments.  
  
"I see. Well, since you didn't think Nott would mind being turned pink, I'm sure you two won't mind me deducting 30 points each from Gryffindor. And I'm sure you won't mind helping me clean out the potion's storeroom. Detention, 8:00 sharp tomorrow evening."  
  
I had my doubts that they would show up for a detention, and house points were worse than useless, considering the Inquisitorial Squad was quickly depleting Gryffindor's points. But I had to say it, for propriety's sake.  
  
In a softer voice I added, "What do you two think you're going to accomplish with your little pranks?"  
  
"Mischief is it's own reward."  
  
I continued as if George hadn't just interrupted me. "No matter how ghastly you are, no matter what you do, at the end of the day Headmistress Umbridge will still be here. You, however, may not be."  
  
"Like we care." muttered Fred.  
  
"But I warn you." I said, more softly still, "If any of your little high jinks should cause harm to another Slytherin student, I shall be forced to speak to your mother the next time I see her. I will be compelled to express my sympathies. Isn't true that Percy's not speaking your family at all? What a shame. And he always seemed like the best of the lot. Oh well, my mother always said bad things come in threes. Hopefully your younger bother and sister will turn out better."  
  
This caught their attention.  
  
"You wouldn't!"  
  
"Really? I would. I would probably take great pleasure out of it. Do you think I could make her cry?" I took great pleasure out of the looks of alarm on their faces.  
  
"It was only a joke."  
  
"A joke which landed another student in the hospital wing. If it truly had been a joke, Mr. Nott would have been laughing. I didn't hear laughter, Mr. Weasley. Choking, perhaps, but not laughter."  
  
The twins were exchanging worried glances. A sudden inspiration hit me.  
  
"You two wouldn't happen to know what happened to Montague, would you? Because if you have any knowledge of his whereabouts, I might be willing to forgoe certain discussions. " I held Fred's gaze.  
  
"No idea"  
  
"Why would you think such a thing?"  
  
They weren't lying. I could sense that much. But they weren't telling the whole truth either.  
  
I held the door open for them to leave. Fred, however, had one final parting shot before he left.  
  
"You Slytherins take things way to seriously. I bet if You-Know-Who had a sense of humor, we wouldn't be in this mess in the first place."  
  
I had a sudden vision of the Dark Lord, laughing hysterically at my feeble attempts to rise after he had used the Cruatias curse on me. Personally, I don't think a sense of humor, or lack of, was really the contributing factor in the Dark Lord's rise.  
  
I arrived in the hospital wing just in time for Nott to puke all over my shoes. Poor Nott. He looked a rather interesting shade of green now, rather then pink. Damn. The things not mentioned in my original job description; Students with no fear of death or detention, a Headmistress with the intelligence of a flobberworm, and students with the inability to keep down their dinner.  
  
"Pomfrey. POMFREY!" I yelled as I went to find a bucket for Mr. Nott. His tongue was back to normal so she had obviously attended to him already.  
  
"Oh there you are Professor Snape. I was wondering when you."  
  
"Do you have a bucket?" I interrupted her.  
  
"A what?"  
  
"A bucket. A hollow cylinder with a bottom to contain various fluids. Mr. Nott is in need of one."  
  
Mr. Nott proceeded to demonstrate his need. Pomfrey pulled out a small tray and handed it to Nott.  
  
"There, there, the heaves should stop in several hours. Unfortunate side effect of the counter-charm."  
  
Madam Pomfry fussed over Nott for a few more minutes. Now that the heaves had stopped, Nott looked like he wanted to sink through the floor. I decided it would be kindest to distract Madam Pomfry from expressing her maternal instincts.  
  
"Will Mr. Nott need to spend the evening here?"  
  
"Tonight and probably most of tomorrow. A good nights rest should set him right"  
  
Nott had been struggling under the O.W.L. workload, and several detentions with Umbridge for drawing inappropriate pictures during class had not helped him to catch up. He most definitely could not afford a day off. "Mr. Nott, I shall send a prefect by with your books and homework. I expect you to accomplish some studying this evening. Do I make myself clear?" I fixed the boy with a powerful stare.  
  
He looked up from his tray to meet it. "Yes, Professor Snape."  
  
Pomfrey was looking like she would like to empty the contents of Mr. Nott's tray over my cold hearted head. Nott might need a good nights sleep but he also needed to pass his O.W.L.s. He could rest over the summer. 


	3. Student Found

All of this really belongs to J.K. Rowling. I'm making no money from this work of fan fiction.  
  
Part Three: Student Found  
  
I began to head towards the kitchens. Supper might be over, but the house elves would get me something. Then I remembered.  
  
Potter.  
  
Occulemency.  
  
And I was going to be late.  
  
I arrived one minute late. And no Potter. I was not surprised. He didn't seem to grasp the importance of these lessons. Or maybe he simply didn't care until he mastered his mind he was a danger to us all. I had to grudgingly admit that he had a bit of natural ability, but he was point blank refusing to practice. After a promising first lesson, the lessons had progressed steadily downhill. I had resorted to relentlessly breaking into Potter's mind, hoping to find some memory painful enough that Potter would use his natural talents to repel me. If I could think of a better way of teaching Occulemency, I would. Unfortunately for Potter, I had learned it the hard way, and so would he.  
  
Well, no reason for me to sit on my hands. I began to remove memories into the pensieve. Potter deigned to show himself after another five minutes.  
  
"You're late, Potter. So, have you been practicing?"  
  
"Yes"  
  
Again, not sure why I asked. I wouldn't have need Legilamency to see that Potter was lying. So much for Professor and Sir, as well. I had given up on trying to teach Potter manners. Only loyalty to Dumbledore kept me from doing the same with Occulemency. I felt fury raging in my veins. Fury against Potter, fury against Dumbledore for wasting my time with an impossible task, fury that I needed to get under control if I wanted to do this lesson justice. I took a deep breath, trying to drive out thoughts of Weasleys or obstinate students.  
  
"Well, we'll soon find out, won't we? Wand out, Potter." I waited until Potter was behind the desk. He looked frightened, which refueled my fury. To have any sort of success he needed to have control of his emotions!  
  
"On the count of three then. One -two"  
  
I almost jumped out of my skin as Draco Malfoy came barging into my office. I suppose that I should have locked the door. But having Potter alone in my office was damning enough. Having Potter in my locked office might get me killed.  
  
"Professor Snape, sir -oh -sorry"  
  
Draco looked bemused. Thankful that I had already thought up an excuse for Potter being in my office, I tried to defuse his curiosity. "It's all right, Draco, Potter is here for a little remedial Potions."  
  
I could see Draco filing away this information for further use. Hopefully his delight in having something over Potter would make him temporarily forget that you don't need a wand to brew potions. I could see Potter turning red, and felt I had better to end any potential confrontation between him and Draco.  
  
'Well, Draco, what is it?' I asked. Draco might be a bit arrogant, but he rarely bothered me without good cause.  
  
"It's Professor Umbridge, sir- she needs your help," said Malfoy. "They've found Montague, sir, he's turned up jammed inside a toilet on the fourth floor."  
  
That definitely qualified as a good cause. I felt a surge of irritation. The fourth floor bathrooms had been checked by Flich yesterday, and myself earlier this afternoon.  
  
"How did he get in there?" I demanded.  
  
"I don't know, sir, he's a bit confused."  
  
This was not sounding good. I felt a bit of panic, quickly suppressed, rising through my gut. I needed to get to the fourth floor before Umbridge decided to do something rash, like actually trying to extract Montague.  
  
I took a deep breath. Forcing a calm voice, I said, "Very well, very well. Potter, we shall resume this lesson tomorrow evening."  
  
I hurried out of my office, Draco at my heels. As we turned the first corner out of the dungeons, I slowed to allow Draco to catch up. I did a quick check that no teachers, students, or ghost were in the vicinity, pointed my wand at Draco's back and muttered "Obliviate". Draco stopped and looked at me with blank eyes.  
  
"Thank you for finding me, Mr. Malfoy. Could you be so kind as to bring Mr. Nott his homework? He is in the hospital wing."  
  
I felt a twinge of guilt has Draco nodded and headed the other way. The last thing I needed was Draco writing to Lucius that Professor Snape had Harry Potter in his wand sights. And hadn't finished what the Dark Lord had started.  
  
While I was running up the stairs, I realized that I had seriously breached Order security. My Persieve was sitting in an unlocked office. With some seriously damning thoughts swirling inside. I hesitated, briefly, and then continued up the stairs. Order business came second to the welfare of the students, Dumbledore and I agreed on that. And Montague's welfare could be in serious jeopardy if Umbridge should decide he needed her help.  
  
Headmistress Umbridge was already in the fourth floor bathroom. Just looking at her toadying face gave me a pounding headache. However, she was the acting Headmistress, so I'd better do some acting of my own.  
  
"Good evening, Headmistress."  
  
When Malfoy had said stuffed, he hadn't been exaggerating. Montague's head was protruding from the toilet seat. The rest of his body was jammed through the plumbing, with his legs sticking out from the head. His legs also appeared to be elongated, probably the result of an improperly cast extraction charm. Probably cast by none other than Dolores Umbridge; living proof that those who can do, those who can't become Ministry drones.  
  
"I've had no luck in extracting Mr. Montague"  
  
I bit back the scathing remark that probably would have landed me on probation. Struggling to keep my tone civil, I suggested, "Why don't I break the toilet apart?"  
  
Umbridge looked at me as if I had suggested murdering the Minister of Magic and said, "Break it? As in damage school property deliberately?"  
  
Montague was beginning to mutter incoherently. I should have just broken the thing open, and not bothered with chitchat. Not a mistake I normally make. Now I had to convince a Ministry drone that it was necessary. I suddenly occurred to me that the last time I had eaten was well over twelve hours ago.  
  
I concentrated hard on Minerva, who seemed to have such a knack for dealing with Umbridge. "I'm sure that you would agree, Headmistress, that the cost of a restroom fixture is nothing compared to that of the welfare of our students. Besides, we will be able to repair it after we have removed Montague."  
  
Umbridge looked irritated. "Can you think of no other way of removing him?"  
  
"I would rather not take the chance that they might injure Mr. Montague further."  
  
Umbridge gave a nod for me to proceed and in short order Montague was sprawled on the floor, attempting to get up. When I grabbed the front of his robes to help him to his feet, Montague promptly spewed all over my robes.  
  
Umbridge made a hasty retreat with a "Well, you seem to have everything under control. Please let me know if you need anymore help."  
  
I conjured up a stretcher and took a still spewing Montague to the hospital wing. Madame Pomfry was still there, fussing over a back to normal colored Nott. She looked up.  
  
"Not another one. What happened?"  
  
"I don't know"  
  
Madam Pomfrey fussed over Montague, while I hovered anxiously in the background. Finally she stood and said, "I'm not sure what's wrong with him. The best I can do is see if a good night's sleep will sort him out. But he's definitely not in any condition to study for N.E.W.T.'s!"  
  
In nurse speak, that meant Pomfrey had no idea what was wrong with him. Not good. Pomfrey glared at me for a good minute to be sure I got the point, then checked on Nott, who was dutifully looking at his Charms textbook.  
  
I quietly pulled out my wand and pointed at Montague, "Legilimens", I muttered, trying to get a glimpse of what had happened to him. I saw two familiar identical red heads, laughingly pushing him into a cabinet. Which was not meant to vanish people. Montague was lucky to be alive. A two day stay in the cabinet could have been fatal.  
  
I felt a rage of fury. I was half way to Umbridge's office when I realized that I had no proof. My abilities in Legilimency were top secret. There was no way I could incriminate the Twins.  
  
I left Montague in Pomfrey's capable hands, and stalked back to my office. I tried to think of some appropriate curse to use on the Weasley twins. The problem was most of the curses I was contemplating would land me in Azkaban. I needed a shower, I desperately needed something to eat, but I needed to secure the Pensieve first. The safest place for my thoughts was in my own head, scary place as that was right now. I kept seeing the Wealey's laughing facing as they attempted to commit murder. No doubt they thought it was amusing. A funny joke to be played on a Slytherin who was making their life difficult. What was even more infuriating was that they would probably get away with it. My skills were top secret, and if Montague recovered, well, it was doubtful he would remember anything of being pushed. 


	4. Into the Pensieve

All of this really belongs to J.K. Rowling.  
  
It was fortunate, perhaps, that I did not meet up with any misbehaving students on the way to my office. Perhaps they were alerted by the sound of slamming doors as I made my way to the dungeon. Perhaps the sound of my footfalls, uncommonly loud, sent them to ground. Whatever the reason, the halls between the Hospital Wing and my office were exceptionally quiet. The few students I did pass moved quickly to let me by.  
  
At last I reached the deserted safety of my office. I threw myself in my chair and reached for the Pensieve. It wouldn't move. I looked closer at it and realized it was attached to something.  
  
Or someone.  
  
Someone like Potter. Who was connected to the Pensieve like a first year that had licked the stadium stands in December.  
  
Part of me was tempted to just leave him there. Move my office to a different part of the castle. Umbridge would never notice, and would be delighted in Potter's disappearance. If she guessed I had something to do with it she might even give me a pay raise. I was tempted to go straight to Umbridge with proof, absolute proof, that Potter was invading my privacy. That would be enough to get Potter out of her hair. I certainly wouldn't be sorry to see the last of him either.  
  
The question was, who did I want to see squirm more; Umbridge or Potter. Umbridge, while loathsome, had never stolen from me, or knocked me out, or blatantly told me to shut up. What she didn't have was Dumbledore's trust. She also wasn't fated to be a witch powerful enough to defeat the Dark Lord. She wasn't even powerful enough to defeat a toilet. Plus, the longer Potter looked in my Pensieve, the more chance he might have to see something that might blow my cover.  
  
Which, considering Potter's connection to the Dark Lord, might be relayed straight to him.  
  
Above all, I didn't want that.  
  
Looked like Potter was off the hook. Again. Which meant that I had better find a way of extracting Potter from the Pensieve without turning Dumbledore's golden boy into a gibbering idiot. Which meant referring to Dumbledore's handwritten notes on the operation of his Pensieve. Fortunately, Dumbledore seemed to have realized that fishing out over curious teenagers would be something I would likely have to do, and had left instructions on how to remove someone "accidentally affixed" to the Pensieve in the first paragraph. I performed the required charms, swearing the whole time that I was a second cousin to a banshee if Potter was ever stepping foot in my office again. The charms performed, I entered the Pensieve, and immediately tripped over my own feet and landed on my nose.  
  
Potter seemed to have stumbled on embarrassing rather than life threatening memories. I was surprised Potter didn't notice my less than graceful arrival, but he was too transfixed by his bloody father to notice. I too was rooted to the spot, an indifferent outsider, as Potter Sr. decided to hoist me head over heels. Potter and Black's laughing faces were beginning to meld with the Weasley twins. I could feel blood thumping in my ears. Potter Jr. looked like he had never seen anything so fascinating as my undergarments. Well, as entertaining as it might be, Mr. Potter was going to get out of my Pensieve straight away and start explaining how he had gotten there in the first place.  
  
I firmly grabbed his arm to remove him from the Pensieve. He turned around like a small child who had been disrupted during his favorite game. Damn him. Did he think this a game? Or a joke, perhaps, an amusing joke to play, the same way his father had humiliated me. I could still hear James's explanation to a teacher, "It was only a joke, Professor. We were just having a little fun."  
  
"Having fun? Been enjoying yourself, Potter?"  
  
My anger was like a real thing that I could have taken out and shaken. I ended up shaking Potter, instead, peripherally aware that he was trying to get loose. Potter and Black had been exactly like the Weasley Twins, no idea what damage their little jokes and pranks could cause. "Amusing man, your father, wasn't he?"  
  
Potter began with his what I was sure would be a feeble excuse, and I realized that unless I wanted to do Umbridge's work for her, I had better remove my hands from Potter before I broke his neck. I let Potter go, visions of the story being all over the Great Hall the next day. "You will not repeat what you saw to anybody! Get out, get out, I don't want to see you in this office ever again!"  
  
I must have look absolutely terrifying, because the Boy Who Couldn't Be Bothered to Practice ran like an entire squad of Death Eaters was after him. Which was fortunate, because I had lost all control of my magic. Bottles began crashing everywhere.  
  
------------------------- Thanks to Mystic Witch, BekaJWP, Nemo Returning, and daintress for taking the time to review. 


	5. Drawing Blood

Fine Print: Severus Snape, Theodore Nott, Hogwarts, and anything else you recognize is the property of J.K. Rowling. I'm simply using her creation. Everything else belongs to me, unless money is exchanged, in which case, it still belongs to J.K. Rowling.  
  
I could honestly say that I had only been hungover once in my life. It should have discouraged me from drinking ever again, when my father realized I was "of age" during Christmas break and proceeded to buy me the most expensive present he had probably ever bought anyone; Sixteen shots of Firewhiskey. I discovered I had the tolerance of a house elf, a fresh appreciation for my younger sister when she patiently made sure I didn't choke to death on my own vomit, and a new understanding of my father. That had been over twenty years ago and I had avoided all but the mildest alcoholic beverages since.  
  
Until last night, when a stupid fifteen year old boy had made me remember things I would rather forget. After tossing and turning for hours, anticipating the inevitable conversation with Dumbledore, I had opened up a bottle of elderflower wine (a present from a Slytherin parent) and proceeded to empty the whole thing. Now I was paying the price.  
  
I tried to brew my own hangover cure, but after three cauldrons full of slop that had no comparison to the consistency of a hangover remedy, I was forced to conceded defeat. That meant I could suffer for the rest of the day or go to Pomfrey like a disobedient student.  
  
Sighing, I carefully made my way to the hospital wing, my head pounding in time with my footfalls. The first day of break and most students were sleeping in, so the halls were quite deserted. I got to the hospital optimistic that my hungover state would remain secret.  
  
An optimism that was quickly trampled by Pomfrey, who didn't seem to understand "Could we speak privately?"  
  
"Oh, Professor Snape. Have you come about Montague? I'm afraid he's not doing much better. He couldn't keep anything down last night. I've had to feed him magically, there's this new technique from St. Mungo's, perhaps you might be interested as a Potions Master, using potions to pull water and nutrients through a patients skin, I have the bottle if you would like to take a look at it, or perhaps."  
  
My stomach was revolting. I needed to get Pomfrey alone, and I needed to do it before I embarrassed myself. "I'm not here to see about Montague."  
  
"Oh, then you must want to know about Nott. Well, he's up and about. I'll be releasing him by lunch, why don't you come and speak with him, as you can see he's back to the right col.Professor Snape! Are you quite alright? Here's a bucket, we seem to be using them often lately. Here, sit on this cot next to Nott, there you go, do you have a temperature? Shakes? Headache? It could be the flu, there's a nasty one going around."  
  
Before Pomfrey started drenching me with cold medication, I set her straight to the cause of my symptoms.  
  
"I'm in need of some hangover remedy." I spat out, with as much dignity as I could. "Mr. Nott, I heard that snicker, and if there is so much as a whisper of this around the common room I will personally make your life a living hell." That quieted Nott's giggling, but did nothing to soften Pomfrey's disapproving look.  
  
Pomfrey set off in search of the requested potion, and left me with the still quietly snickering Nott. Who have been nursing a weeks worth of detention if he hadn't had Slinkhard's book out, and had obviously been taking notes.  
  
"Well, at least you're studying." I grabbed the book out of his hand and read the page he had been studying, then began firing questions at him. That forced him to stop laughing. He answered most of my questions glibly, until I finally was forced to hand the book back to him with a grudging, "Well, at least I'm confident you'll pass Defense Against the Dark Arts. I wish I was as sure about Transfiguration"  
  
"The written, at least."  
  
"Well, if you fail the practical, at least you will be in good company." I had started an evening practice group for my fifth and seventh years, so they would have at least some chance of passing the Defense Against the Dark Arts practical. Unfortunately, Potter's lessons and increased scrutiny from Umbridge had put a stop to that. "I doubt you will." Nott had shown a knack for practical defensive magic. Show him a nasty spell once, and not only had he mastered it, he was already thinking of ways to "improve" it. Even Malfoy stayed away from Nott's belongings.  
  
"Well, if I'm attack, at least I'll know what spells I can't use to defend myself. Of course, I'll be dead, because according to that stupid book, anything more powerful on than Stupify would be unethical."  
  
I couldn't really disagree, but to publicly denounce Umbridge's choice of books would be professional suicide. Nott held out his hand to take the book back. I noticed a thin white scar on the back of his hand.  
  
"Mr. Nott, what's that on your hand?"  
  
"It's just a scar. Papercuts from one of my books."  
  
"Mr. Nott, make a fist and hold out your right hand. Right now."  
  
The scars were light, but I could make out a sentence in Nott's distinct scrawl.  
  
"I will not draw in class. As much as I agree with that statement, I fail to see why it is etched into the back of your hand."  
  
"I .."  
  
"If you don't give me a good, believable explanation in five seconds I am assigning you a weeks worth of detention."  
  
"It's from detention with Umbridge, sir, I mean Pro-Headmistress Umbridge, I made some drawings of her in class, and she caught me."  
  
What kinds of drawings, I could only guess to well. Nott had been reprimanded for making unflattering sketches of me in his first year. A quick look at the front page of Slinkhard's book confirmed my suspicions. I had to smother my laugh with a cough. He was quite talented with the quill. Pity he wasn't as talented in Transfiguration or Potions.  
  
"She carved this into your hand."  
  
"Oh no sir, she has a quill, she has me write lines."  
  
"In your own blood."  
  
My sister had attended Drumstrang, and had such a quill had once been used on her. Unfortuantley for the teachers at Drumstrang, my sister was not the sort of person to take an overly harsh punishment lying down. She quickly discovered a charm which would force the quill to take blood from who ever had given it too her. She had promptly demonstrated when she was home for break, with no regard for the position she was putting me in. Let Karkaroff torture my sister or let my sister torture him. Ultimately my loyalties had stayed with my sister.  
  
I looked at Nott. Oh, hell, I would probably regret this tomorrow, but no teacher or student had the right to torture a student with a magical object.  
  
"Mr. Nott, I want you to listen very closely. The next detention you have with Professor Umbridge, cast a reflecting charm on the quill before she hands it to you. Once she has handed it to you, cast the shield charm. Blood will come out of her instead of you. Be careful not to get caught, I can't protect you from her. This conversation never happened."  
  
Nott's face looked truly bewildered. "What conversation?"  
  
Pomfrey came back with her disapproving face and the hangover potion, which I gratefully drank. As I left, Pomfrey had one parting shot.  
  
"Professor Snape, that will be a detention for you and thirty points from Slytherin for behavior unbecoming Hogwarts staff."  
  
Acknowledgements Many thanks to BekaJWP, Nemo Returning, and CrossedScarsX for reviewing.  
  
CrossedScarsX; There will be two more chapters. I'm using this story as a bit of a postquel for a story I'm currently writing about Snape's summer between his fifth and sixth year. 


	6. Discussions of a Serious Nature

Break was unusually uneventful. Normally there were at least four major magical mishaps and, for the last six years, numerous practical jokes. But the hallways of Hogwarts were eerily quiet. I suppose I could take credit for some of the monotony. Every time I passed the Weasley Twins, I could feel my face screw into a scowl. They must have sensed their well-being was in jeopardy if they stayed in my presence more than a few seconds, and they always scampered away. I knew that they were responsible for Montague's condition, and they knew I knew. What they didn't know was why they hadn't been hauled into Umbridge's office and unceremoniously booted out of Hogwarts, something I would have given a great deal of time and money to see. Montague's condition had worsened and Mrs. Montague's letters had become increasingly demanding.

While the Weasley Twins were acting like model students, it was my own Slytherins who were giving me a headache this break. The Inquisitorial Squad was taken aback by Montague's fate, and had begun a relentless crack down on the school. A first year Ravenclaw was docked one hundred points for "facial expressions unbecoming of a Hogwarts student". The Squad had gone so far as to ignore an unspoken rule in Slytherin, turning Nott in for an obscene drawing on one of the suits of armor. With Umbridge flitting about, I couldn't even shout at them for a lack of house loyalty. I consoled myself with the thought that at least Nott had some defense against Umbridge's blood curdling detention.

I would have almost welcomed some form of magical mischief. At least I could do something about misbehaving students and magic gone wrong. I spent most of the break grading homework papers and researching potential cures for Montague, an occupation that gave me too much time to contemplate my overriding headache, Potter: Or more precisely Occlumency and Potter, and my inability to successfully combine the two. Minerva even noticed that I seemed a bit off.

"Severus, I know that the Slytherin Quiddich team's chances have just been destroyed, but seriously, you must stop moping."

"Excuse me, but I believe after Umbridge culled the undesirable from the Gryffindor team, Filch was called in to replace your office door. Repeatedly. Something about it being slammed…". Flitch had complained at length about the number of doors Minerva was going through.

"Well pull your self together. Dolores is distracted by Montague, now's the perfect time to give Potter a few more lessons. Dumbledore's quite worried about sending him to his family this summer. The ward around his aunt's house should protect him, but if he has to leave the house…". Minerva stopped mid sentence as a group of students rounded the corner, and waited until they were well out of sight before whispering, "If you need Umbridge distracted, I'm sure I can arrange something."

It was tempting to give the lessons another go, simply to watch Minerva "distract" Umbridge, who had looked a bit pale the last time I had seen her.

Nine days is a long time to stew over something, and by the time that Potter's first potion lesson rolled around I was still stewing, with no solution for my efforts. By pretending that Potter didn't exist I managed to get through the lesson without a repeat of our last Occlumency lesson, but the one time I started over to correct him, I found myself light headed, and realized that I was holding my breath in an attempt to control my temper. When retreated to my desk and forced my self to breathe, I found that my fingernails were drawing blood, and I came to the realization that no matter how hard I tried, my feelings were going to get the better of me with Potter. Potter choose that moment to walk up with his completed potion, which he carefully set in only empty rack on my desk, smirking the entire way.

Oh, hell, I was already going to be in the shits with Dumbledore, might as well make a through job of it. I felt quite satisfied when the rack crashed to the floor after my arm "accidentally" brushed it too hard, and returned Potter's furious look with a smirk of my own.

"Whoops, another zero then, Potter."

I was still contemplating the reasons that I couldn't teach Potter Occlumency for when I stepped into muck that was up to my knee later that afternoon. Flailing for my wand and my footing, I could hear two students talking behind me.

"Should we stun him?"

"He's in the Order, Fred. You can't go attacking someone who's in the Order."

"Shhh. Not so loud. We're not going to attack him, simply get him out of the way so that we may complete our mayhem in peace." I redoubled my efforts to reach my wand, a tantalizing fingerlength away.

"Maybe we should abandon our plan. I could intercept…"

"No, absolutely not! We're almost finished; we're more likely to get caught if we stop now. I can get him from here." I had just managed to get my fingers over my wand when darkness overtook me.

I woke up several hours later in a supply closet with a stiff neck, wet robe, and a strong desire to murder the Weasley Twins. I stepped out of the supply closet and sunk, up to my neck, in smelly muck. Unfortunately, my startled yelp brought unwanted help.

"Let me give you a hand there, Professor Snape."

I had known Flitch for twenty-four years, during which he had seen me covered in a variety of different substances, from perfume (courtesy of Potter and Black) to blood. No matter what the substance or situation, his reply was always the same.

"You could use a bath, Professor Snape." Flitch held out a hand and helped me into a small raft.

"What happened?"

"Those Weasley Twins happened. Made a swamp. Umbridge gave me permission to whip 'em but they flew off on their brooms before I got the chance."

The curse used to knock me out must had addled my wits a bit, as nothing Flitch was saying made sense. "They're gone? On their brooms? I thought the brooms were locked in her office."

"They summoned them. Came flying through her door and almost hit me in the head."

My brain finally caught up with his words. "She gave you permission to whip them? I thought that corporal punishment had been banned?"

"I've got permission in extreme cases" Filch fingered the whip fondly, "Those little brats will be sorry they crossed me."

Evidently Flitch had missed my spectacular argument with Minerva, my blowout with Professor Moody, and several shouting matches with various parents, because he was looking at me like I was an ally in his quest to beat the students senseless.

"Flitch, you use that thing on any Slytherin student, and I will personally hex you, and laugh all the way to Azkaban."

"It's not illegal to hex someone."

"The hexes I'll use are."

"Come on Severus, you have to admit they'res a few students who could do with becoming better acquainted with the lessons that only a good piece of leather can teach. That Potter snot could do with a few lashes, eh. That'd take the strut out of his stride."

"Flitch, I catch you using that on any Slytherin student, actually any student at all, including Potter, and, well, let's just say that it's a big forest out there, and if they can't find your body they'll have a hard time pinning it on me."

Flitch seemed to get it through his thick skull that I was most definitely not on his side, sighed dramatically, and asked, "You wouldn't know a way of getting rid of this swamp? It's going to make a huge amount of work for me. Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall already tried, but they said it was beyond their abilities. I don't know if I believe them, but that's the story."

I didn't either. I could think of half a dozen ways of removing the swamp, and I'm sure Flitwick knew several hundred. It was tempting to get rid of the Weasley's final monument of misbehavior, if simply to make life easier for an old friend. Then I caught Flitch gently stroking the edge of his whip. I theatrically waved my wand and muttered a few nonsense spells, frowned thoughtfully, and said, "Evidently beyond mine as well. Let me sleep on it, it can't be too complex if those dunderheads put it together."

Between Flitch, the Weasley Twins, and my own stiff neck, I was in a thoroughly fowl mood by the time I reached my quarters. Unfortunately, Minerva was fretting in front of them. Evidently I had missed the staff meeting.

"Where have you been? I was ready to send out an alert that you were missing. And what have you been swimming in?"

It didn't matter that I was close to forty, Minerva's colleague, and most certainly not in the wrong. Suddenly I was fourteen being chastened for lateness. Minerva wasn't quite fretting. She looked a bit woebegone. Well, two of her students had just fragrantly destroyed their futures. I could understand her distress. We stood in silence for a minute.

"I suppose you heard."

I was still annoyed about the Weasley Twins. "More like saw. And stepped in. And then knocked out. You really should keep better tabs on your students."

The power of Minerva's glare was reduced by her short laugh. "I take it you found the Weasley Twins' creation."

"Pity they managed to escape before Flitch got to them." There was a long pause in which I started to open the doors to my quarters.

"I'm on probation. The Headmistress", and Minerva looked like simply saying the word pained her, "announced it at the staff meeting."

"Because two of your former students are unbelievable brats who deserve to be strung up by their little toes?"

"Because I told Potter that he had some chance of becoming an Auror."

"Because you're delusional. Potions is a requirement for admission into Auror training and there is no way that he is going to be in my N.E.W.T. class."

"I believed I promised Potter that I would coach him nightly to achieve his goals."

"Thank goodness that as I recall, potions isn't your strong point."

"I know nothing about potions. Which was why I was wondering if Potter were to get less than an O…"

"Absolutely not!"

"I haven't even finished!" Minerva had at least gone from woebegone to furious.

"If he gets anything less than an O, he can't join my N.E.W.T. class, Minerva, we've had this discussion before!" N.E.W.T Potions was one of the most dangerous classes taught at Hogwarts. Potter was not going to be exploding potions in the only classes I enjoyed teaching.

Minerva didn't look defeated, but decided to let the subject drop.

"Did they really knock you out? Fred and George, two untrained students, managed to outdraw a former duelist? I think Dumbledore might be able to make use of that in the Order."

I'd forgotten. The only thing keeping the Twins from the order had been their enrollment in Hogwarts. Soon I would be working with them as…colleagues.

"Yes. I'd better go." I said shortly.

5


End file.
